Dementia
by sbbchslns
Summary: Dementia: (noun) a chronic or persistent disorder of the mental processes caused by brain disease or injury and marked by memory disorders, personality changes, and impaired reasoning.


**A/N:** Let's just say I have a tendency to use the name Historia more than Krista.

* * *

It was the time of night when everything was quiet; when no one perceptive dared disturb the peace; when lovers could embrace in the privacy of their own homes. Ymir smiled down at Historia's sleeping face and reached over to brush a stray hair behind her ear. Her smile grew even wider when the blonde girl groped unconsciously for her hand and upon finding it, held on tightly and sighed in contentment.

_I love you, Historia. Ever since you took me in, when even my parents didn't want me anymore. The doctors fed them all lies, saying I belonged in that synthetic white building like all those other brainless pigs. They said I couldn't feel again. That I could never feel the way normal humans do. But I do feel. You taught me what love was, and now I feel it every time I look at you._

Ymir gave the small hand a gentle squeeze and watched as thick, red liquid began to flow from the siphon attached to Historia's left arm. Unsurprisingly, Historia had not stirred when she inserted the tubes into her subclavian blood vessels, one to extract the blood and the other to replace the fluid with preservatives. She seemed to be feeling it now, twitching involuntarily in her drug-induced sleep. Ymir just hoped that Historia wouldn't wake up before all the blood was drained.

_Remember when you found me half-dead at the side of the road, covered in dirt and wearing only a tattered hospital gown? You didn't even ask where I came from or why I looked the way I did. You took me to your house, fed, dressed, and watched over me when I became delirious from fever. You treated me as a person rather than another mental case. You cared about me more than I cared about myself._

Historia's heart had stopped its mellifluous beating a while ago, but it wasn't until now that her body was completely devoid of blood. Her skin was tight and ashen in color, all the muscles in her face relaxing into a peaceful smile, as if she were a sleeping princess awaiting her prince's kiss. Ymir leaned over and pressed her lips against Historia's. They tasted sweet, dry, lifeless. Ymir pulled away. Reaching into her bag, she brought out a metal syringe with a plunger on one end and two needles on the other. She pulled the bloody tube from Historia's arm and replaced it with a needle. Wincing, she stuck the other inside her own arm.

_It started off as a simple thought, more than anything. When I finally recovered from the pyrexia, I opened my eyes to see you resting your head by my side, completely exhausted from taking care of me the entire night. You disregarded the notion of someone like me, a total stranger, harming you, without a second thought. I barely knew you, but I already wanted you by my side forever._

Ymir pressed on the plunger and felt a slight pressure from where the needle was lodged deep in her artery. She watched in fascination, her blood transfusing into Historia and coloring her body with life again. Ymir continued to work the handle of the syringe at a steady pace.

_When I asked you why you chose to help me, you told me that was what people do for each other. You told me it was called love. Love for a stranger, love for a neighbor, love for a friend. Whatever it was, you loved me. You were the first person to ever love me._

Almost toppling over from the vast amount of blood loss, Ymir leaned forward on the bed for support. She had lost about a third of her blood. Historia looked alive again, like she was about to open her eyes at any moment and wrap her arms around Ymir. She smiled at the thought and continued pressing the syringe consistently, this time slower than she did before in an effort to preserve strength.

_Slow and steady wins the race, huh?_

Ymir could barely breathe at this point, her breaths coming out in ragged pants. She knew she was past forty percent blood loss; she had minutes left. With a strengthened resolve but weakened body, Ymir pressed the plunger of the metal syringe. Slowly. Unwaveringly.

_I thought that maybe if I put a piece of you in myself, I could learn to be kind like you. But then I remembered I didn't deserve it. I didn't deserve you. I didn't deserve your kindness. So maybe if I put a piece of myself in you, I could finally show you my love. I didn't want to taint you, but you said it yourself. You told me that love meant taking other people's burdens upon your own shoulders; that you were okay with taking mine._

Ymir collapsed onto the bed, the syringe connecting her to Historia sliding out of her hand. A final breath slipped from between Ymir's lips.

_I just hope you know that I love you, too._

As Ymir's heart beat its final beat, she saw a movement from the corner of her eye. A smile gracing her ashen lips, she closed her eyes forever.

* * *

The Egyptians believed that the heart, rather than the brain, was the source of human emotions, as well as wisdom, memory, and the soul itself. From the heart extended channels linking all the parts of the body together, and flowing through them was the life force that was blood. This ichor contained emotions as well, although just fragments of memories and feelings produced by the heart. The Egyptians would always keep their hearts in their bodies so that in the afterlife, or if they somehow came back, they would retain the memories of their past life.

* * *

**A/N:** I had to write a story based on a line graph for my math class for some reason, and I ended up with 'the amount of blood in Historia's body as a function of the time elapsed.' This is the original version, before I changed the names, edited out the kiss scene, and added more math vocabulary.


End file.
